


All You Have Is Your Fire

by koujakrude



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Gen, Hallucinations, Major edits made, Panic Attacks, Shipping isn't the focus, people are dying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-09-18 23:36:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9407789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koujakrude/pseuds/koujakrude
Summary: Thanks to a corporate giant known as GALRA, humanity has crumbled. No one knows how it started. No one knows how to end it.It's up to a rag tag team of scientists, friends, lovers, and a resolve stronger than steel to save anyone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, I posted this back in October 2016. I had it tagged with Shiro/Keith/Lance as the main ship, but seeing as I don't ship it anymore I didn't really know how to progress their relationship with the plot I had outlined. As a result, I didn't update for a long time, and I apologize to those who were reading it and waiting for said update. It's undergone some editing here and there, and this time I hope it's a little more coherent and sound. 
> 
> Klance is still a thing, but I don't really want to focus on romantic stuff too much here. I do plan to be adding more ships later on, but don't expect any x-rated scenes between anyone. It's the apocalypse. 
> 
> Let's see this through to the end, and happy season 2!

Shiro couldn’t remember the last time it had been this quiet in the city. The only sound was the gentle wind breeze that blew through the square, the sweat on his forehead finally cooling. 

 

Shiro hesitated in front of the steps of the abandoned apartment building. The glass doors had been completely smashed in, a good indicator that the building had already been looted in the first weeks of the pandemic outbreak. Anyone who wanted to keep their heads would know walking into that place could very well spell the end for them. But looters still overlooked things.

 

Shiro’s camp was running dangerously low on supplies. Shiro looked behind him to see Pidge slide into the driver’s seat and park the van into the alleyway. It was a little comical, only just being able to see the top of Pidge’s auburn hair. Pidge was still much too young to drive legally, but it’s not like anyone was around to argue about it. Shiro looked back to the building. It was just a simple sweep: get in, get what you need, get out.

The building almost seemed to sway the longer he stared at it. He could imagine the cracks in the wall growing more apparent as it slowly rotted from the inside out. 

 

Shiro walked up the steps, glass shards crunching under his heavy boots. The entry level was relatively quiet, save for the moaning echoing from inside the elevator shafts. It sent a horrible chill down his spine. Shiro sighed, fingers running through his dark hair. So much for the easy way to get around. The building had barely any electricity left to power them. It wasn’t worth the risk of getting stuck to try and ride one up. 

 

Not wanting to waste anymore time Shiro began to further explore the level. There was a welcome desk, obviously destroyed and thoroughly ransacked. But in the back of the welcome area was an open door to the stairwell. Perfect. Shiro quietly hopped over the desk and made his way up the stairs. There were a few blood stains on the wall, but not enough to make the young man turn around and leave. Peeking into the floor entry ways Shiro was able to tell that some of its residents had decided to become permanent. Thankfully, and by some miracle of God, they hadn’t picked up on his presence. Shiro had to check eighteen floors before finding one that appeared to be empty. The door squeaked, but not by much. He let himself onto the floor and prowled around, checking several doorknobs and discovering that many of them were locked. Except for the last door in the corner of the hallway.

 

He let himself inside and gingerly closed the door behind him.

  
  


His first stop was the kitchen. He opened up the cupboards and sifted through cans of baked beans, soup, and uncooked pasta, stuffing several of the goods into his bag. He moved to the pantry with light footfalls, yet still failing to take notice of the clanging in the bathroom nearby. 

 

Shiro was tired, and wanted to get this run over and done with so that he and Pidge could drive back to their camp in one piece. 

 

As Shiro moved further into the pantry he picked up a first aid kit that was already empty, band-aid wrappers being the only things that remained. The inside of it still smelt like it was brand new; a sterile scent that made his nose twitch. 

 

The pantry still looked fairly untouched. Most of the items inside had either expired or were pretty much useless. Not like anyone had time to grind and brew bags of coffee these days. Still, Shiro took a bag of beans off of the shelf and tucked it into his backpack. They smelled bitter and pungent and most likely a little out of date. But coffee was coffee, and he knew Pidge would appreciate it a lot. 

 

But then Shiro picked up on another scent. One that was not the bitterness of a bean, but rotten and decaying flesh. He swallowed nervously. He held his breath, straining to hear the soft shuffling of feet on the wooden floor. Shiro could hear the flies buzz around them and he covered his mouth to prevent himself from choking. If he could time it right, Shiro could sneak out into the outside hall without being noticed and bolt down the stairs to where Pidge and their van waited. As much as he tried to avoid taking risks like this, he didn’t have the time to make a better plan. It was this or die. 

 

Shiro lowered himself into a crouch and inched himself towards the exit as quietly as he could manage. If the roamers could smell the sweat covering his body, they hadn’t made any effort to follow after him. Shiro brushed his bangs out of his eyes and kept moving. 

 

Shiro had been on plenty of stealth simulation missions before during his training at the Garrison. This would be just like that. Just with a little more death involved if he screwed up, instead of the typical reprimand from the senior officers. The building had been hilariously easy to enter and now? A lot more dangerous to leave. Did Pidge know? Was she alright? She would never knowingly send Shiro into an… occupied building alone with minimal weapons. If these rich snobs had just simply evacuated the city like everyone else instead of clinging to their million dollar apartments this run would have been a lot easier.

 

Shiro crept towards the door, trying to open it as quietly as possible. 

 

Then the fire alarm went off. 

 

Shiro froze, heart dropping into the pit of his stomach. He should be the only living person in that building, and he didn’t remember turning on anything that could create smoke. Shiro’s head snapped back just in time to make eye contact with the two bodies behind him, who had now begun to stumble faster in his direction, arms reached out in front of them. Moans could be heard from the other end of the hallway. If Shiro could make it to the stairwell, he might be able to avoid the majority of them. He stood up and ran to the stairwell, only to see the doors below open up and roamers crawling over each other into the space. 

  
“Where the hell did they all come from? Shit!” Shiro cursed as he ran back into the apartment he just left, barricading himself inside one of the bedrooms and collapsing onto his ass. Shiro’s eyes quickly scanned the room, looking for something more stable to hold the door shut. But the only thing in the room was an Ikea bedside table and a twin mattress. Fucking minimalists. He could feel the roamers banging against the door, demanding to be let in. The blood in his ears rushed so blaringly loud he could barely think. 

 

Shiro reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, looking at the photo inside. Shiro knows he didn’t have long to reminisce, but remained seated anyway. Death was at his door and there he was, rubbing a thumb over the photo of Keith and Lance on a beach they all went to during the summer. The trip was a pre-graduation present from themselves; a peaceful, relatively affordable reward for four years of incredible hard work.

 

Shiro could almost remember the warmth of the sun on his skin, as the three of them lounged on the beach towels. The sand was hot, but pleasant, as they buried their toes deeper into it. They didn’t have to think about the Garrison at that moment. They had the freedom to be themselves, to fucking enjoy this and be happy together. Of course, both Keith and Lance had a semester left. Shiro remembered laughing as they argued about who would graduate first; it was their nature to make anything they did into a competition. He remembered the sandcastles they made, the burgers they gorged on, and the complaints of sand in their asscracks as they drove home. That was… probably the last time Shiro saw them before they left to return to the Garrison.

 

Maybe he should have made more of an effort to keep in contact with them after they left. He tried to justify his absence with the reasoning that they were all doing their own thing now, they wouldn’t always be able to hang out like they used to. He could only hope that Keith and Lance were safe. 

 

That was six months ago. With a sigh, Shiro knew he was out of time. The thudding against the bedroom door grew heavier, the moaning louder, the smell of rotting flesh stronger. Shiro knew he had only one chance to escape through the window and make his way down the side of the building. As soon as he stopped holding the door shut with his body, he’d have to move fast. This couldn’t be any harder than his military drills. 

 

Shiro tucked the photo into his pocket and closed his eyes in concentration. He breathed through his nose in quick succession, preparing himself before he vaulted himself away from the door, hands moving at an impossible rate trying to get the window open. Shiro looked behind him, eyes narrowing on the weakening lock. The door frame had cracked under the stress and snapped, roamers pushing and shoving each other to get in on the panicked human in front of them. 

 

With a loud grunt, Shiro finally mustered enough strength to be able to bust the window open and climb through, feet first. It was a tight squeeze. The windowsill garden failed to provide any help as it plunged to the bottom; dirt, tools, and dead flowers spilling everywhere. As he pulled his head through the gap, Shiro could hear the snarling and growling grow louder with every passing second. 

 

He could see their mangled arms reach for him, their mouths chomping at air, saliva dripping from their decaying lips. 

 

Just as he freed his bag, several of their hands latched onto his sleeve, pulling his arm closer to their snapping jaws. Shiro began to panic and pull back with little success. They may be dead, but that just meant that they had nothing to lose and would hold onto anything with an iron grip. 

 

The initial bite was a pain beyond compare to anything Shiro had experienced in his twenty-five years. It felt like flames were crawling up his arm, lapping at the pouring blood like a dog who hadn’t seen water in days. He couldn’t even hear himself scream, but his throat felt raw. Shiro’s free arm pushed against the roamer’s skull in a desperate attempt to free himself. With every pull he could feel more flesh being ripped from muscle, every fibre feeling like millions of needles piercing his skin. 

 

With the last of his strength Shiro was finally able to free himself, his hand tightly gripping at his arm. A warmth wetness soaked his fingers and dripped down his arm, the ground becoming painted with specks of deep scarlet. He became deaf to anything else besides the horrible moaning and blood whirling in his ears. 

 

The metal steps were narrow and too close together for Shiro to get a good bearing. He had a loose grip on the railing as he let himself stumble down the steps, having only so much strength left to hold himself up. He wiped his forehead, not even caring for the blood dripping into his eyes. It kept him aware (barely), alert (not really), and awake (hanging by a thread).       

 

His footsteps became heavier and sloppier, his muscles growing weary with over-exertion. But he was so close to the van, he could hear the mechanical beeping of Pidge’s computers through the pounding in his ears. Or maybe it was only his brain trying to calm his racing heartbeat. His vision began to blur around the edges, the gash in his arm roaring with blinding pain. Shiro could barely make out the sound of Pidge opening the back door, her worried and shrilled voice becoming duller as he lost consciousness.

  
  
  
  


Shiro knew he wasn’t awake. However the darkness enshrouding him did not feel like the permanence of death. Did he make it in time? Shiro felt weightless, floating through the dark like a boat down a river. It was so goddamn cold. Wasn’t it supposed to be the middle of summer? Hot and humid? Where was the buzzing insects? Where was the almost ceaseless moaning? He was surprised he could even hear his own thoughts. Maybe this was death. Maybe this was all there was left. It already seemed like an eternity had passed, floating like this. 

 

He wondered about Pidge- what was she doing right now? Did she get away? Did she leave him behind? Shiro thought he would have been okay with that. Pidge was smart, careful, and could probably find a cure for this one day. Pidge had a lot to live for. At least without Shiro weighing her down, they’d be able to focus on finding their family. She’d be smart enough to find them alive. She would probably move on the easiest. Pidge didn’t like to dwell. 

 

He wondered about Hunk- was he going to be all right on his own for so long? A day or two had passed since they left camp. Hunk was a certified genius, but was afraid of being left behind. Shiro and Pidge were all Hunk had left after his team had... passed on. They were a family now. Hunk was going to be crushed when he didn’t come back. He’d probably cry. Maybe he’s already crying?

 

Keith and Lance? Fuck. That stung, the fact that they’d never see each other again. Would they keep looking for him? Or would they accept fate’s decision? He hoped they wouldn’t lose each other over him. Keith kept Lance grounded and safe, while Lance provided an open mind and loving heart. He wondered if they were even still- 

 

But then it began to grow hot and bright. Shiro could feel his eyes fly open with urgency and his muscles tense up. He could feel a white hot pain in his arm, could feel his lungs begin to fill with a scream and then- numb. 

 

The darkness consumed him again, swallowing him in a vast silence. Shiro didn’t feel as light as he had before. He was just barely able to comprehend anything at this point. Could only feel a pressure ebbing away at his existence. It felt heavy, yet sharp. It felt like a vice around his soul, in a way; keeping his consciousness alive. Something was keeping him in this place, unable to move forward or backward. 

 

Just. 

 

Stuck. 

 

The river had stopped flowing as if someone had built a dam. But this was… emptiness. Why would anyone need to build a dam? What purpose was there? 

 

Somehow Shiro was still able to feel weary and weak. Maybe this was limbo, and he was doomed to spend an unknown amount of time here until he could wake up again. Perhaps he would be reincarnated into a world where this never happened; a universe where things were… better. He could find Keith and Lance; get to know them for the first time again. Shiro could feel himself smile. 

 

And then came the second worst pain he’s ever felt. It  _ burned.  _ It lit him on fire, flames of heat singing his very soul without mercy. Shiro could feel a twisting within, an acidic bile building up in his stomach. He shuffled somewhat trying to prevent his body from begin retching. The sensations started to become more real, his muscles regaining their mobility, his eyes blinking shapes and lights into a blurred perspective. 

 

“Hunk,” a warbled, distorted voice broke through the barrier, but Shiro could barely make out the words. He tried to concentrate harder, the energy draining from his mind made everything murky.

 

“...Help...!” 

 

Shiro wanted it to end. He wanted to stop  _ feeling pain _ and then lose the ability to comprehend sensations completely, only for it to start again like some cruel being dangling his life in front of him. Just let him die. Leave everyone behind, right now he didn’t care. 

 

_ Why would you leave them behind? You’re selfish. You’re thinking only of yourself, your own pain. They would  _ die _ without you. You know that.  _

 

Shiro felt utterly confused. Who was this, the voice speaking in his mind? It didn’t sound like his own thoughts. It didn’t sound like anyone he knew. 

 

“Pidge?....Hunk?...”  _ Dying would mean leaving them behind. Don’t they deserve something better than a corpse? What about everything that’s happened? Did none of it matter to you? Are you just going to let go?  _ He could feel someone grabbing his hand and squeezing softly. He squeezed back. Of course it mattered. He wanted to see them so bad his heart hurt. He could hear his name being called from somewhere far off. He tried to follow it. Tried to move his legs forward. 

 

“What...happened?” Shiro tried to yell, though his voice came out just above a whisper. He blinked again, forcing the figures above him into focus. Pidge looked like she was about to burst with tears. Turns out Hunk had beat her to it, smiling even with the tears and snot muddying his face. They talked to him, but Shiro’s hearing remained somewhat compromised. 

 

“Where…?” Shiro wanted to get up, wanted to hug and hold his friends tightly, even with the pain flaring in his shoulder. 

 

_ Where are you? You’re safe.  _

  
_ You’re alive.  _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for limb removal  
> Next chapter is going to be some backstory, so stay tuned for that

The amount of blood nearly caused Pidge to pass out herself. She was nearly covered in it as she heaved Shiro’s limp body into the van, falling down beside him in exhaustion. She turned her head to take a closer look at the wound. Pidge knew that she had to work quickly, and moved to the small chest in the back and praying that she would have enough gauze to stop the bleeding a little bit. But gauze bandages wouldn’t stop the infection from flowing throughout Shiro’s bloodstream. Pidge pinched her nose in frustration, desperately trying to think up different methods of dealing with the situation. 

 

  1. She leaves him behind, saving herself. 
  2. She kill him before he turns.
  3. She cut off the path of the virus. Meaning; she’d have to completely sever Shiro’s arm from his body. He might not live through the trauma. 



Losing Shiro was not an option. It was a risk and consequence that she would have to be willing to live with for the rest of their life (however long or short that may actually end up being.) Pidge was finally able to lift Shiro’s body onto the medical table in the corner. Considering the severity of the situation, Pidge doubted that the children’s nighttime and fever pill would do much. She checked their supply of Tylenol and advil and were surprised when she managed to dig up a small dose of anaesthetic.  Pidge rummaged through the chest again, pulling a single (thankfully) clean needle. Pidge looked down at the syringe in her hand, a bead of sweat rolling down their forehead. Pidge ransacked Shiro’s bag as well as her own but came up with nothing useful (the coffee beans, maybe, but now certainly wasn’t the time to be thinking about it). The teenager began to panic, tearing open the compartments inside the van. She were somewhat successful this time; procuring a steak knife and old hack saw. With the edge of her shirt she wiped down the steak knife and placed it on the table next to Shiro. It would have to do for the flesh and nerves, while the saw would take care of the bone. Pidge loaded 10mg of anaesthetic into the syringe, tapping it for good measure. Pidge took a deep breath and went to work. The teenager began to insert the tip into the hunk of muscle by Shiro’s upper shoulder, hoping that it would numb the area enough for the coming trauma. Watching the fluid drain out of the syringe and into her friend’s arm almost brought along with it a sense of calm. Pidge let out a sigh of relief, thankful that she hadn’t screwed up. Yet.

 

Unfortunately she didn’t have much in the way of sanitation. The plastic gloves and the last bit of antiseptic would have to do until Pidge could take Shiro somewhere safe. The surgeon-in-training put on the gloves, tips hanging off the edges of their fingers just a little too much. Pidge placed the empty syringe on the table, exchanging it for the knife. She held it with a white-knuckle grip as if it would calm their racing heart. For good measure, Pidge reached for a rag, stuffing it into Shiro’s mouth. Having him suddenly wake up and bite his tongue off from the pain would not be the most desirable outcome.

“Come on, stop stalling...it’ll be just like bio class,” they raised the knife and placed it on Shiro’s arm, a little ways up from his elbow. They pushed it forward, watching as the flesh tore apart easily and more blood rushed out, splashing onto the floor. They had completely forgotten to cut off the upper arm with a brace to block the blood flow. 

 

_ Idiot! IDIOT!  _

 

Hypovolemic shock was  _ not  _ what she was aiming for. Pidge looked down at Shiro, the silver buckle of his belt reflecting off of the dim light. Pidge nearly tore the loops right off of his pants with how roughly she unbuckled and yanked the belt from its holdings. Fastening it around Shiro’s arm, Pidge continued to slice through the layers. Pidge ignored the drops of blood that splattered onto her face, moving the blade through layers of muscle tissue and nerve endings. If she were in a better situation and had better resources Pidge would have been able to sew the nerve endings shut, preventing Shiro from experiencing anymore pain. But this was reality. Pidge switched tools when she saw the white bone without a beat and ignored how much her hands were shaking. Remaining focused was absolutely critical. Shiro was counting on her. Pidge breathed heavily through her nose so as to avoid blood getting in their mouth. No one was certain how easily the disease was transferred from one person to the next (besides the obvious method of biting someone) and it was best to be safe than sorry. As Pidge neared the last few millimeters of bone Shiro began to wake up, choked for air. Pidge gasped, dropping the saw onto the bloody floor. Shiro gagged again as he looked at his half-sawed off arm before he passed out, eyes wide with fear.

 

“Okay- so not like bio,” Pidge said to herself as she grabbed the hack saw again, tearing through the last bit of muscle tissue. With a final grunt and push, Shiro’s arm fell to the floor. Pidge’s ears began to ring violently, body becoming taut with shock. She didn’t hear the moaning until it was nearly at their back door. Pidge pulled herself together, grabbing the last of the alcohol and dousing one of the rags in it, tying it tightly around Shiro’s wound. Pidge’s heart leapt up into her throat as she watched a hand smear the back windows with dirt and sludge. Clamouring through the window into the driver’s cabin, Pidge didn’t even bother with a seat belt before slamming on the gas, heading towards the only place where they could possibly be safe. The roamers were left in the dusty alley way, attention having moved back to the blaring alarm inside of the building.

 

* * *

 

 

Shiro could be dead right now. Or worse. Good going, Pidge thought to herself. (Just cut an arm off. It’ll be fine.) At least they lowered the chances of him coming back… as one of them. To Pidge, that was the worst case scenario; to see someone that she cared about to be consumed by this infection, rotting them from the inside out and become a dead man walking; only motivated by flesh and blood. 

 

Pidge didn’t want to even think about looking in the rearview mirror as the van sped down the old country highway. She knew she had attracted a few unwelcome tagalongs since leaving the city even with the distraction of the alarm, but not having the strength or energy to take care of them meant having to just run and gun it. Pidge gripped the steering wheel so tightly she might have just as well been trying to pull it off. She kept her gaze locked on the horizon, trying to keep herself from panicking. Slowly, the lab that they had grown to call home came into view, Hunk reading to himself on the watchtower. Pidge punched the horn, sending a loud, wailing honk sailing through the air and knocking Hunk off of his chair with surprise. 

  
She allowed the van to slow as Hunk scrambled to open the gate.  The blood and sweat on Pidge’s face began to mix together into a sticky sheen on her skin. It made it appear as if Pidge was injured as well, despite that for the entire time Shiro was risking his life looking for supplies, she had just sat in the van, tinkering with the radio. (Which still didn’t work.) 

 

“Holy s- Pidge, what happened?” 

 

Pidge ignored Hunk for the moment, driving the van far enough inside before killing the engine and hopping outside. Hunk ran up to the van after pushing the gate closed. He had a bad feeling about this. Hunk’s eyes widened at the sight of the blood speckled across Pidge’s round glasses. 

 

“That’s- that’s not yours is it?” Hunk gestured to his own face, eyes wide with bewilderment. 

  
Pidge shook her head before moving to the back of the van, yanking open the doors. “You said you were working on robotic prosthetics before this all happened right?” Hunk gaped in confusion. He hadn’t yet seen what was inside of the van, too worried about the state Pidge was in. Her small body rattled with shakes, her legs struggling to hold herself upright. 

 

“Yeah, I was, until, oh you know, half of my classmates turned into zombies and tried to eat me two months ago,” the smell of antiseptic and something else began to filter out of the van, causing Hunk to pinch his nose shut, “jeez, what did you guys get up to in there?” Pidge could almost hear the audible flip of Hunk’s stomach as he stared into the cabin, bile rising in his throat as he finally got a good look at Shiro. The rag Pidge had used was now entirely drenched, small beads of red slowly continuing to drip. 

 

“We’re going to have to test it early.” 

 

“Pidge, I don’t even know if it’ll work properly, I don’t know if I can-” Hunk began to babble, eyes still locked onto Shiro’s injury, “Jesus. It’s just- it’s gone!” 

 

“If I didn’t cut it off,  _ Shiro  _ would be gone,” Pidge wiped at the muck on her face with her elbow, grimacing at the stench, “Hunk. I need you to breathe for a second here. We  _ need _ that arm.” Pidge had hopped into the back, tugging the gurney forward, allowing for Hunk to move it to the ground. Shiro’s hair was plastered onto his forehead with a thick layer of sweat. His breaths came out in shallow huffs, barely strong enough to keep his eyelids open. Hunk gulped. 

 

“But it’s...it’s all GALRA material, you really think we should trust it? After everything that’s happened?”

 

“If we want Shiro to live, we don’t have much choice. Help me move him inside.” One of the front wheels on the gurney had fallen of ages ago, requiring Hunk to lift the edge and hoist it up while Pidge manned the back end. Hunk panted as they hustled into the semi-run down building, ignoring the cold draft blowing into his face. The pair ran down the hallway and hung a left, careful to avoid the debris that they had yet to clean up. It was a miracle that nothing had collapsed. 

 

Pidge’s skeletal fingers kept anxiously searching for something to tinker with as they pushed Shiro into a lab room, huffing heavily by the time they set down the gurney. 

 

“Keith...Lance….” Hunk and Pidge both stopped in their tracks, turning towards Shiro. His eyelids fluttered open and shut, his tongue swiping across his chapped lips. Pidge and Hunk were looming over him now in anticipation. 

 

“Shiro?” Pidge couldn’t fight the way her voice trembled. Her small hand reached out around Shiro’s own, clinging to it tightly. She let a salty tear fall down her cheek whenshe felt a subtle squeeze back. 

 

“Where…” Shiro tried to sit up but Hunk pushed him down, who was currently a near sobbing mess.

  
“Back at camp. We’re safe, Shiro, we’ll help you as soon as we can.” Hunk gave a reassuring pat on Shiro’s shoulder not realizing he was still very much in pain. He recoiled quickly, leaving the room to go to the supply cache his team had left behind. Pidge’s voice grew softer as she did her best to calm Shiro down. 

 

“I’m sorry, Shiro, I thought the building would be safer than the rest, I made a mistake, I-” 

 

“What... happened?” 

 

Extra large duffle bag in tow, Hunk lumbered into the room just as Shiro began losing consciousness again. His skin looked even paler than before. Settling it down on the counter near Pidge’s stuff, Hunk dug through various materials and pulled out a small kitchen blowtorch along with a cast-iron rod. To stop the bleeding effectively he would have to cauterize the wound and pray for it to heal without too much risk of infection. Pidge looked up, fingers tapping methodically on the surface.

 

“You’ve never done this before, Hunk.” 

 

“Yeah, well, you’ve never had to cut someone’s arm off either, so I guess this is just a day of firsts for us.” The older teenager replied, flicking on the blowtorch, holding the iron rod over the flame. The two looked over at their friend, wheezing and exhausted, and probably near death if they didn’t move fast. 

 

The cast-iron grew hot as time ticked on, but that didn’t mean that anyone grew calmer. Pidge could feel Hunk’s heart thump as he pressed it to the limb, wincing as the iron sizzled onto the raw flesh. Shiro woke up with a scream so loud it ricocheted off the walls and rung in their ears _.  _ Pidge did her best to hold him down and cover his mouth her hand, but it still didn’t block out all the noise. Then he started to retch.

 

“Hunk, watch out! Help push him on his side!” With combined effort, Shiro was rolled over onto his good side, then immediately puked onto Pidge’s shoes. Shiro fell silent again and rolled onto his back, head lolling lazily to one side. The wound crisped, blistered; singed skin turning black around the edges. Pidge immediately shucked off her sneakers before continuing to observe Hunk with a fixed concentration. The sweat that had accumulated over the short period of time meant that Pidge was also concentrated on keeping her glasses on her face. 

 

After who knows how long of tedious work, Hunk was finally finished. Step one at least. Fashioning together a prosthetic that fit was going to be an incredible challenge. Making it actually function as a replacement arm? Pidge was by no means unfamiliar with engineering, but Hunk was the expert on this specific fraction of it. Maybe he was the only one left in the world. 

 

The thought of that was unsettling. It made Pidge’s skin crawl; the fact that entire generations of people, of families, had been completely wiped out by the virus. It would take years, decades, perhaps even a century to recover from the effects.

 

Shiro’s condition had stabilized a little, allowing for some breathing room so Pidge could wash herself and Hunk to start making plans. If he could base it off the last prototype his team had made he would at least have a structural skeleton. He could build it up from there with the materials GALRA had left behind, even though he didn’t feel morally right about it. 

 

It would just be like arts and crafts. Except for the fact that all the good glue was gone and if your dollar store glue didn’t set up properly your “Get Well Soon!” card would fall apart and everyone would hate you forever. 

 

“We’re going to have to let him rest for a long time, touching that without letting it heal a little bit is just going to be a big pain in the ass later on,” Pidge noted, fiddling with the small tools in Hunk’s bag. 

 

“What if we don’t have a long time, Pidge? It’s completely one hundred percent likely Shiro’s going to…” Pidge set down the tool in her hand, honey eyes making direct contact with Hunk. The bigger man swallowed and continued, “he could die. We did our best, but, I don’t know if it’s going to be enough.” 

 

“No, it probably isn’t. There’s not much else we can do except hold out for him.”  

 

No one dared leave the room that night as the two friends watched their patient with baited breaths. Hunk had placed a damp towel on his forehead in efforts to cool him down, switching it every few hours. It didn’t help that they were now running low on medical supplies. A fever could take him down without proper care. Pidge wandered around the small building in her socks (shoes having been tragically soiled), breaking into every locked office in hopes of finding some salaryman that had left behind a bottle of painkillers or something. Or at least a clean bottle of water. Unfortunately, the only things left that Pidge deemed useful was a roll of duct tape and some pencils. She returned to the room where Hunk sat overlooking the remaining stump of Shiro’s arm. Opening a drawer and finding a small pack of sticky notes (no longer sticky) Pidge began to scribble down notes. 

 

“What’re you up to now?” Hunk’s voice was groggy with sleep deprivation. He rubbed at the sleep in his eyes, blinking Pidge into focus. 

 

“Writing down our observations. I’ve only heard rumours of amputees surviving bites, but nothing well documented. Figured it was something to do in the meantime.”  The graphite splintered into tiny slivers as Pidge scribbled on the notepads.

 

“You could sleep in the meantime. You must be exhausted after...all the limb removal.” 

 

“You’re going to be even more tired if he makes it through this, you know. With creating the arm, I mean.” 

 

Hunk yawned and shifted his gaze to the shuddering figure. He tried to fight against the heaviness of his eyelids as he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Pidge sounded like she was doodling now, pencil scratching back and forth rapidly. 

  
Pidge was right. If Shiro made it through the night, there was going to be a lot of work to do. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't tell you how many times I looked this chapter over...Still, if there's any errors please feel free to point them out to me.   
> Also, the perspective shifts in this chapter, and we see the events unfold in Pidge's eyes. 
> 
> Poor kid.

The amount of blood nearly caused Pidge to pass out herself. She was nearly covered in it as she heaved Shiro’s limp body into the van, falling down beside him in exhaustion. She turned her head to take a closer look at the wound. Pidge knew that she had to work quickly, and moved to the small chest in the back and praying that she would have enough gauze to stop the bleeding a little bit. But gauze bandages wouldn’t stop the infection from flowing throughout Shiro’s bloodstream. Pidge pinched her nose in frustration, desperately trying to think up different methods of dealing with the situation. 

 

  1. She leaves him behind, saving herself. 
  2. She kill him before he turns.
  3. She cut off the path of the virus. Meaning; she’d have to completely sever Shiro’s arm from his body. He might not live through the trauma. 



Losing Shiro was not an option. It was a risk and consequence that she would have to be willing to live with for the rest of their life (however long or short that may actually end up being.) Pidge was finally able to lift Shiro’s body onto the medical table in the corner. Considering the severity of the situation, Pidge doubted that the children’s nighttime and fever pill would do much. She checked their supply of Tylenol and advil and were surprised when she managed to dig up a small dose of anaesthetic.  Pidge rummaged through the chest again, pulling a single (thankfully) clean needle. Pidge looked down at the syringe in her hand, a bead of sweat rolling down their forehead. Pidge ransacked Shiro’s bag as well as her own but came up with nothing useful (the coffee beans, maybe, but now certainly wasn’t the time to be thinking about it). The teenager began to panic, tearing open the compartments inside the van. She were somewhat successful this time; procuring a steak knife and old hack saw. With the edge of her shirt she wiped down the steak knife and placed it on the table next to Shiro. It would have to do for the flesh and nerves, while the saw would take care of the bone. Pidge loaded 10mg of anaesthetic into the syringe, tapping it for good measure. Pidge took a deep breath and went to work. The teenager began to insert the tip into the hunk of muscle by Shiro’s upper shoulder, hoping that it would numb the area enough for the coming trauma. Watching the fluid drain out of the syringe and into her friend’s arm almost brought along with it a sense of calm. Pidge let out a sigh of relief, thankful that she hadn’t screwed up. Yet.

 

Unfortunately she didn’t have much in the way of sanitation. The plastic gloves and the last bit of antiseptic would have to do until Pidge could take Shiro somewhere safe. The surgeon-in-training put on the gloves, tips hanging off the edges of their fingers just a little too much. Pidge placed the empty syringe on the table, exchanging it for the knife. She held it with a white-knuckle grip as if it would calm their racing heart. For good measure, Pidge reached for a rag, stuffing it into Shiro’s mouth. Having him suddenly wake up and bite his tongue off from the pain would not be the most desirable outcome.

“Come on, stop stalling...it’ll be just like bio class,” they raised the knife and placed it on Shiro’s arm, a little ways up from his elbow. They pushed it forward, watching as the flesh tore apart easily and more blood rushed out, splashing onto the floor. They had completely forgotten to cut off the upper arm with a brace to block the blood flow. 

 

_ Idiot! IDIOT!  _

 

Hypovolemic shock was  _ not  _ what she was aiming for. Pidge looked down at Shiro, the silver buckle of his belt reflecting off of the dim light. Pidge nearly tore the loops right off of his pants with how roughly she unbuckled and yanked the belt from its holdings. Fastening it around Shiro’s arm, Pidge continued to slice through the layers. Pidge ignored the drops of blood that splattered onto her face, moving the blade through layers of muscle tissue and nerve endings. If she were in a better situation and had better resources Pidge would have been able to sew the nerve endings shut, preventing Shiro from experiencing anymore pain. But this was reality. Pidge switched tools when she saw the white bone without a beat and ignored how much her hands were shaking. Remaining focused was absolutely critical. Shiro was counting on her. Pidge breathed heavily through her nose so as to avoid blood getting in their mouth. No one was certain how easily the disease was transferred from one person to the next (besides the obvious method of biting someone) and it was best to be safe than sorry. As Pidge neared the last few millimeters of bone Shiro began to wake up, choked for air. Pidge gasped, dropping the saw onto the bloody floor. Shiro gagged again as he looked at his half-sawed off arm before he passed out, eyes wide with fear.

 

“Okay- so not like bio,” Pidge said to herself as she grabbed the hack saw again, tearing through the last bit of muscle tissue. With a final grunt and push, Shiro’s arm fell to the floor. Pidge’s ears began to ring violently, body becoming taut with shock. She didn’t hear the moaning until it was nearly at their back door. Pidge pulled herself together, grabbing the last of the alcohol and dousing one of the rags in it, tying it tightly around Shiro’s wound. Pidge’s heart leapt up into her throat as she watched a hand smear the back windows with dirt and sludge. Clamouring through the window into the driver’s cabin, Pidge didn’t even bother with a seat belt before slamming on the gas, heading towards the only place where they could possibly be safe. The roamers were left in the dusty alley way, attention having moved back to the blaring alarm inside of the building.

 

* * *

 

 

Shiro could be dead right now. Or worse. Good going, Pidge thought to herself. (Just cut an arm off. It’ll be fine.) At least they lowered the chances of him coming back… as one of them. To Pidge, that was the worst case scenario; to see someone that she cared about to be consumed by this infection, rotting them from the inside out and become a dead man walking; only motivated by flesh and blood. 

 

Pidge didn’t want to even think about looking in the rearview mirror as the van sped down the old country highway. She knew she had attracted a few unwelcome tagalongs since leaving the city even with the distraction of the alarm, but not having the strength or energy to take care of them meant having to just run and gun it. Pidge gripped the steering wheel so tightly she might have just as well been trying to pull it off. She kept her gaze locked on the horizon, trying to keep herself from panicking. Slowly, the lab that they had grown to call home came into view, Hunk reading to himself on the watchtower. Pidge punched the horn, sending a loud, wailing honk sailing through the air and knocking Hunk off of his chair with surprise. 

  
She allowed the van to slow as Hunk scrambled to open the gate.  The blood and sweat on Pidge’s face began to mix together into a sticky sheen on her skin. It made it appear as if Pidge was injured as well, despite that for the entire time Shiro was risking his life looking for supplies, she had just sat in the van, tinkering with the radio. (Which still didn’t work.) 

 

“Holy s- Pidge, what happened?” 

 

Pidge ignored Hunk for the moment, driving the van far enough inside before killing the engine and hopping outside. Hunk ran up to the van after pushing the gate closed. He had a bad feeling about this. Hunk’s eyes widened at the sight of the blood speckled across Pidge’s round glasses. 

 

“That’s- that’s not yours is it?” Hunk gestured to his own face, eyes wide with bewilderment. 

  
Pidge shook her head before moving to the back of the van, yanking open the doors. “You said you were working on robotic prosthetics before this all happened right?” Hunk gaped in confusion. He hadn’t yet seen what was inside of the van, too worried about the state Pidge was in. Her small body rattled with shakes, her legs struggling to hold herself upright. 

 

“Yeah, I was, until, oh you know, half of my classmates turned into zombies and tried to eat me two months ago,” the smell of antiseptic and something else began to filter out of the van, causing Hunk to pinch his nose shut, “jeez, what did you guys get up to in there?” Pidge could almost hear the audible flip of Hunk’s stomach as he stared into the cabin, bile rising in his throat as he finally got a good look at Shiro. The rag Pidge had used was now entirely drenched, small beads of red slowly continuing to drip. 

 

“We’re going to have to test it early.” 

 

“Pidge, I don’t even know if it’ll work properly, I don’t know if I can-” Hunk began to babble, eyes still locked onto Shiro’s injury, “Jesus. It’s just- it’s gone!” 

 

“If I didn’t cut it off,  _ Shiro  _ would be gone,” Pidge wiped at the muck on her face with her elbow, grimacing at the stench, “Hunk. I need you to breathe for a second here. We  _ need _ that arm.” Pidge had hopped into the back, tugging the gurney forward, allowing for Hunk to move it to the ground. Shiro’s hair was plastered onto his forehead with a thick layer of sweat. His breaths came out in shallow huffs, barely strong enough to keep his eyelids open. Hunk gulped. 

 

“But it’s...it’s all GALRA material, you really think we should trust it? After everything that’s happened?”

 

“If we want Shiro to live, we don’t have much choice. Help me move him inside.” One of the front wheels on the gurney had fallen of ages ago, requiring Hunk to lift the edge and hoist it up while Pidge manned the back end. Hunk panted as they hustled into the semi-run down building, ignoring the cold draft blowing into his face. The pair ran down the hallway and hung a left, careful to avoid the debris that they had yet to clean up. It was a miracle that nothing had collapsed. 

 

Pidge’s skeletal fingers kept anxiously searching for something to tinker with as they pushed Shiro into a lab room, huffing heavily by the time they set down the gurney. 

 

“Keith...Lance….” Hunk and Pidge both stopped in their tracks, turning towards Shiro. His eyelids fluttered open and shut, his tongue swiping across his chapped lips. Pidge and Hunk were looming over him now in anticipation. 

 

“Shiro?” Pidge couldn’t fight the way her voice trembled. Her small hand reached out around Shiro’s own, clinging to it tightly. She let a salty tear fall down her cheek when she felt a subtle squeeze back. 

 

“Where…” Shiro tried to sit up but Hunk pushed him down, who was currently a near sobbing mess.

  
“Back at camp. We’re safe, Shiro, we’ll help you as soon as we can.” Hunk gave a reassuring pat on Shiro’s shoulder not realizing he was still very much in pain. He recoiled quickly, leaving the room to go to the supply cache his team had left behind. Pidge’s voice grew softer as she did her best to calm Shiro down. 

 

“I’m sorry, Shiro, I thought the building would be safer than the rest, I made a mistake, I-” 

 

“What... happened?” 

 

Extra large duffle bag in tow, Hunk lumbered into the room just as Shiro began losing consciousness again. His skin looked even paler than before. Settling it down on the counter near Pidge’s stuff, Hunk dug through various materials and pulled out a small kitchen blowtorch along with a cast-iron rod. To stop the bleeding effectively he would have to cauterize the wound and pray for it to heal without too much risk of infection. Pidge looked up, fingers tapping methodically on the surface.

 

“You’ve never done this before, Hunk.” 

 

“Yeah, well, you’ve never had to cut someone’s arm off either, so I guess this is just a day of firsts for us.” The older teenager replied, flicking on the blowtorch, holding the iron rod over the flame. The two looked over at their friend, wheezing and exhausted, and probably near death if they didn’t move fast. 

 

The cast-iron grew hot as time ticked on, but that didn’t mean that anyone grew calmer. Pidge could feel Hunk’s heart thump as he pressed it to the limb, wincing as the iron sizzled onto the raw flesh. Shiro woke up with a scream so loud it ricocheted off the walls and rung in their ears _.  _ Pidge did her best to hold him down and cover his mouth her hand, but it still didn’t block out all the noise. Then he started to retch.

 

“Hunk, watch out! Help push him on his side!” With combined effort, Shiro was rolled over onto his good side, then immediately puked onto Pidge’s shoes. Shiro fell silent again and rolled onto his back, head lolling lazily to one side. The wound crisped, blistered; singed skin turning black around the edges. Pidge immediately shucked off her sneakers before continuing to observe Hunk with a fixed concentration. The sweat that had accumulated over the short period of time meant that Pidge was also concentrated on keeping her glasses on her face. 

 

After who knows how long of tedious work, Hunk was finally finished. Step one at least. Fashioning together a prosthetic that fit was going to be an incredible challenge. Making it actually function as a replacement arm? Pidge was by no means unfamiliar with engineering, but Hunk was the expert on this specific fraction of it. Maybe he was the only one left in the world. 

 

The thought of that was unsettling. It made Pidge’s skin crawl; the fact that entire generations of people, of families, had been completely wiped out by the virus. It would take years, decades, perhaps even a century to recover from the effects.

 

Shiro’s condition had stabilized a little, allowing for some breathing room so Pidge could wash herself and Hunk to start making plans. If he could base it off the last prototype his team had made he would at least have a structural skeleton. He could build it up from there with the materials GALRA had left behind, even though he didn’t feel morally right about it. 

 

It would just be like arts and crafts. Except for the fact that all the good glue was gone and if your dollar store glue didn’t set up properly your “Get Well Soon!” card would fall apart and everyone would hate you forever. 

 

“We’re going to have to let him rest for a long time, touching that without letting it heal a little bit is just going to be a big pain in the ass later on,” Pidge noted, fiddling with the small tools in Hunk’s bag. 

 

“What if we don’t have a long time, Pidge? It’s completely one hundred percent likely Shiro’s going to…” Pidge set down the tool in her hand, honey eyes making direct contact with Hunk. The bigger man swallowed and continued, “he could die. We did our best, but, I don’t know if it’s going to be enough.” 

 

“No, it probably isn’t. There’s not much else we can do except hold out for him.”  

 

No one dared leave the room that night as the two friends watched their patient with baited breaths. Hunk had placed a damp towel on his forehead in efforts to cool him down, switching it every few hours. It didn’t help that they were now running low on medical supplies. A fever could take him down without proper care. Pidge wandered around the small building in her socks (shoes having been tragically soiled), breaking into every locked office in hopes of finding some salaryman that had left behind a bottle of painkillers or something. Or at least a clean bottle of water. Unfortunately, the only things left that Pidge deemed useful was a roll of duct tape and some pencils. She returned to the room where Hunk sat overlooking the remaining stump of Shiro’s arm. Opening a drawer and finding a small pack of sticky notes (no longer sticky) Pidge began to scribble down notes. 

 

“What’re you up to now?” Hunk’s voice was groggy with sleep deprivation. He rubbed at the sleep in his eyes, blinking Pidge into focus. 

 

“Writing down our observations. I’ve only heard rumours of amputees surviving bites, but nothing well documented. Figured it was something to do in the meantime.”  The graphite splintered into tiny slivers as Pidge scribbled on the notepads.

 

“You could sleep in the meantime. You must be exhausted after...all the limb removal.” 

 

“You’re going to be even more tired if he makes it through this, you know. With creating the arm, I mean.” 

 

Hunk yawned and shifted his gaze to the shuddering figure. He tried to fight against the heaviness of his eyelids as he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Pidge sounded like she was doodling now, pencil scratching back and forth rapidly. 

 

Pidge was right. If Shiro made it through the night, there was going to be a lot of work to do. 

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that this took so long and that it's a bit shorter than what I would have liked. But I'll try to turn out regular updates every two weeks from here on out.
> 
> Thank you for reading and kudos/comments are very much appreciated! 
> 
> Have a lovely day/evening/night!
> 
> Edit: Also, I just noticed some errors in the first chapter where it still had some of the old shipping stuff. Please let me know if I have any continuity errors, it would be appreciated! Expect the next chapter April 15th!

Hunk traveled down the long corridors by himself. His normally heavy footfalls had grown softer over the past three months since Shiro and Pidge had arrived. GALRA reinforcements never came during that time. There wasn’t even any indication that they had received his distress call in the first place. His nervous hands wrung around themselves as he neared the lab. The three of them had cleared it so long ago, and yet he found himself still hesitant to enter. He knew this was a life or death situation; his hesitation could cost Shiro his only chance. He could still hear his shallow and weak breaths still running rampant in his mind. The engineer stood in front of the metal door, placing his hand on the handle and pushed forward. 

 

It opened with a worn-out groan. He hated that sound. A dozen roamers used to be locked behind this door, after all. Hunk moved his hand along the wall, finger flicking the light switch when it made contact. The lights flickered for a moment, but settled down to a dim glow. Hunk tsked, making a mental note to check the generator status later.

 

The prototype sat on the middle lab bench, various small tools and parts littered around it. Hunk moved to sit himself down on the stool and stared at his team's’ creation. This prototype would now have to become the real deal. Hunk sighed and ran a hand down the side of his face. How he was actually going to make this the ingenious design work almost felt impossible. He tapped his fingers against the bench, gears in his mind grinding; trying to figure out a way to do this. His eyes lazily glanced around the room. The linoleum floors that had been polished to pristine condition were now stained with blood and ruined papers. Scratch marks had been gouged into the drywall. The cabinets bolstered to the walls had doors that barely hung onto their hinges. He could just make out something on one of the cabinet doors; some left over documents? Hunk stood up and walked over, carefully prying it open. His jaw dropped, and a soft, mournful gasp escaped him. On the door was a photograph of his team. The first day they embarked on this project. 

 

Rolo looked smug; his arm wrapped around Nyma’s shoulders, cocky gaze focused on the camera. Nyma herself wore a bright grin on her face, holding peace signs with both hands. Rax looked confident and protective, standing with his chest puffed out, arms crossed. Hunk looked at himself in the photo; he couldn’t remember the last time he felt that proud. He pulled the photo free, staring at it for a few moments. 

 

Carefully tucking the photo into his back pocket, Hunk then raced to where Shiro was recuperating. Pidge was there, her hands wringing out a soaked cloth over a small tub of water. She wiped off the that had built up on his forehead, face wrought with concern. She looked up when Hunk knocked on the door. 

 

“I need your help.” 

She gingerly placed the cool cloth on his forehead before looking up at him. 

 

“It’s about time you asked.” 

 

* * *

 

 

Hunk lead Pidge back to the lab with a renewed energy put back in his step. He felt a little ashamed he hadn’t asked for her help earlier, his own insecurity and uncertainty holding him back from reaching out. The photograph in his back pocket served as an important reminder. A reminder that even in this hopeless dead world, he still wasn’t alone. 

 

The bioengineer sat down in his stool and waited for Pidge to sit herself across from him before he started to explain the schematics and plans for the arm. Her eyes were drinking in the plans with an extreme thirst, constantly having to push her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. Hunk would almost be worried that she had stopped listening a while ago if it were not for her interjections of “no, that wouldn’t work. What you need to do here is that…” every 5 minutes. He had been scribbling notes down every time she did, not wanting to pass up on any new ideas they could implement. After about an hour and a half, she straightened her back and made sure that she had eye contact before she started speaking. 

 

“How do you plan to get his neurons to register the arm?”

“Well, there would be connecting nerves that would-” he began, before getting cut off.

 

“Connecting nerves? We cauterized any chance of connecting nerves together. No way in hell are we slicing off a layer for this. He’s already traumatized.” 

 

Hunk sighed. “We need to connect it somehow, in a way that doesn’t endanger his life any more than we already have. I… I don’t know how we’re supposed to do this without a surgeon.” 

 

“Too bad none of us are surgeons. We’re going to have to make some severe adjustments if we’re going to attach this thing,” she took off her glasses to wipe the lenses on her shirt, placing them back and being slightly disappointed that they hadn’t improved much at all. “I wish 9-1-1 was still a thing. I wish emergency rooms were still a thing. I wish none of this ever happened.” 

 

Hunk rested his chin on his fist, staring intently at the schematics laid out in front of them. His fingers tapped methodically against the metal table hoping that the constant patter would inspire some genius idea that would work without any negative consequence. If there was only someone out there that they could call. Pidge had pushed her chair away from the table before hopping off and heading for the door. 

 

“We should probably go check on Shiro, we’ve spent a long time in here. If he doesn’t survive the night there’s no point to this.”

 

After he couldn’t hear her footsteps anymore Hunk finally began to follow suit. He felt the photo in his back pocket bend from the movement. Worried that he might have accidentally ripped it, Hunk pulled it out and stared at it again, before setting it atop the schematics. He flicked off the lights as he neared the door, giving another look back into the dark room. 

 

“Goodnight guys. See you tomorrow.” He said quietly. 

 

Hunk found himself wandering into Shiro’s room. Pidge didn’t say anything when he walked in, too busy diligently taking notes. Her earlier post-its had now decorated half the wall. Of course she had found full sized pads of paper, short notes evolving into near medical journals. At least she was doing something productive, unlike his sitting down in front of a piece of machinery that doesn’t even work for what felt like hours. His meeting with Pidge had shed light on a few issues but they had not even begun to think of any actual solutions.  

 

Hunk could feel the fever like warmth radiating from Shiro better than the furnaces in the building. Sweat had begun to collect on his pale face again, sliding down his skin until they absorbed into the pores. Hunk took the cloth off of his forehead and wrung it out over the small bowl beside where Shiro was resting. The stench made Hunk’s nose wrinkle with disgust, even Pidge had made a sound of discomfort when she noticed the smell. Hunk wiped off the beads of sweat, not having noticed that Pidge had moved to his side. 

 

“God, he kind of stinks, doesn’t he?” Hunk joked. Pidge prodded Shiro’s shoulder, the skin still sticky and warm. 

 

“I think it might be infected.”

 

“What? No, you cut it off, he can’t be-”

 

“That’s not what I meant. Look at his shoulder, it looks like pus is starting to form. We have to clean it before he takes a turn for the worst.” 

 

Hunk swallowed. “I think we used up the last of the supplies when we tried to stop the bleeding.” With a click of her tongue, Pidge folded her arms across her chest, her foot tapping impatiently. 

  
“We better look for more, or we’re all shit out of luck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bit of a transition chapter from Hunk's POV. Sticking with a constant POV is a bit of a struggle for me, but I think this is good practice. Thank you again for taking the time to read!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to the La La Land soundtrack on repeat while writing this.   
> Never saw the movie, but it's nice I guess. 
> 
> Introducing some new characters here. It's about time. 
> 
> Also some GALRA conspiracy theories are starting to brew. 
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read! Kudos/comments are very much appreciated! Have a lovely day/afternoon/night! 
> 
> Update: April 29th

The two scientists anxiously gnawed on their lips as they kept watch over Shiro. As Pidge had correctly guessed, a fever had taken over his body. She found herself clutching at her notes tightly. A part of her was hoping that some sort of clue would reveal themselves in her notes, something that could solve this. 

 

Pidge was always praised for her intellect and intuition but she was no doctor. At best she could perform basic first aid and at worst she could perform amateur limb removal. She looked at her notes again, eyebrows furrowing slightly when she realized she was sweating so much some of the pencil lead had smudged slightly, making her already chicken scratch writing more of a challenge to decipher. She only looked away when she heard a choked noise erupt from Shiro’s throat. Some drool gathered at the corner of his mouth. Her eyes followed Hunk’s hands as he wiped it away from Shiro’s face, grimacing as he did so. 

 

She flipped through her notes once more, stumbling upon something that looked helpful. 

 

 

  * __Discuss possible attachment options for the arm. I think Hunk’s on the right track, with his plans of creating a neural pathway for the brain to connect to the machine. Surgery is going to be next to impossible unless a miracle happens.__


  * _Should surgery not be an option, we have to see if we can build a base attachment that can communicate with the brain. Simply attaching a plastic base to his shoulder will do nothing._



 

 

Pidge cleared her throat.

 

“About the attaching process, I think we can build a better base than what we currently have.” She watched Hunk sit back in his chair, the cloth in his hand now placed back on Shiro’s forehead. After she assured herself that she had his attention, Pidge continued. “I think we’ll have enough materials to do this, but only once. If we can somehow help the communication pathways without being too invasive, we can bypass surgically attaching it altogether. ” 

 

Hunk paused for a moment, eyebrows knitted together in deep concentration. Only the sound of Shiro breathing prevented the room from falling into complete silence. 

 

“I… I don’t think that’s possible. With the arm being as advanced as it is, we have to do surgery.” 

 

“There’s no way we can do that. We did enough harm already. Cutting him up again? Putting him through even more trauma? We could kill him, Hunk.” 

 

“I know that!” Hunk shouted, his fingers already curled into fists. Pidge held on tight to her pad of paper. She watched as Hunk stormed off in silence, her eyes downcast with the weight of defeat on her shoulders. If only her family was here to help there wouldn’t be any problems in the first place. 

 

Pidge let herself out of the room and walked down the long corridor to the end where she pushed open the doors to the outside. She had to squint due to the sunlight’s harsh rays beaming down on her. Scanning the yard, Pidge quickly located what she was looking for. 

 

The vehicle they had originally arrived in was parked within the compound and thankfully, was equipped with a semi-functional radio. Semi-functional only because Pidge had spent so many hours tinkering with it. She turned it on and let herself sink into the hot leather seat to the sound of static radio waves. Pidge played with the buttons for a while, not really tuning into any specific signal, but a different tone of static would be nice. Pidge continued to repeat until at least a half hour had passed.

 

She realized that leaving Shiro on his own in his condition was admittedly, not the smartest idea. Pidge grabbed the door handle and shifted out of her seat.

 

“....He……..med..….emerg…” 

 

Pidge froze. She sat herself back down and slammed the door shut. She turned the knob with careful precision, ears strained with concentration. 

 

“...Help! There’s...medical emergency...Requesting….tors…”

 

She grabbed the receiver from its perch and held it between her shaking hands. Pidge clicked on the button and tried to get her words out but found that they had become stuck in her throat. The radio continued to static, but slowly started to become clearer. 

 

“Please, help! There’s a medical emergency! If any doctors are listening please come to the hospital on Country Lane. There has to be someone out there, listening. Please, I am begging you, help us.” The female voice kept repeating with what sounded like hopeless desperation. 

 

_ It was just wishful thinking.  _

 

_ It’s not your family. It’s not your family. It’s not. You know they aren't. Don’t bother responding.  _

 

“H-hello?” Pidge almost didn’t realize she had spoken. She cleared her throat again. 

 

“Oh thank goodness, are you a doctor?” 

 

What the hell was she supposed to say? Aside from, you know, cutting off her friend’s limb her medical experience was limited to tylenol and polysporin. The voice repeated itself once more. Pidge  _ should  _ do the right thing: tell them that no, she was unfortunately not a doctor.  _ Or,  _  she could lie. That she was a doctor. A trauma surgeon to be exact. It would be the cherry on top for those people, who would swallow it whole. 

 

“Who are you guys?” Perfect. Deflect the question with another question. 

 

“My name is Shay. I need a doctor for my brother as soon as possible!” Shay sounded like she was on the verge of tears by now. Pidge could almost picture the red-rimmed eyes blink away tears as a nose running wet with snot sniffed loudly. Pidge clenched the receiver in her fist with a death grip, knuckles having already turned white. 

 

“I’m sorry, I just, I don’t think I can help. We, too, have wounded and we’re strapped for supplies as it is. I’m sorry, Shay.” 

 

She didn’t hear anything after that. With shoulders slumped, Pidge hopped out of the vehicle and strode back inside the building. She could hear Hunk muttering under his breath (more like yelling under his breath) as she walked back to Shiro’s room. She peeked inside only to see that he was fast asleep. The stump was still reddened and swollen as it had been when she left. Of course it would be. On the upside, at least he hadn’t gotten any worse. 

 

She ran a hand through her hair and grimaced at the grease that had built up on her scalp. She wiped her hand on her cargo shorts as she wandered back to Hunk’s lab. 

 

He was toying with a screwdriver, twirling the head against the table. He then began to fiddle with the arm, lifting it up, pulling it back, pushing it forward, then let it come back to its resting position once more. He only noticed her presence when she sat down in the stool across from him. 

 

“Hey, I’m sorry for getting hot-headed earlier, I-- I uh, I’m just frustrated right now.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

 

“I know. I just think there’s a better way around this whole…” Pidge waved with her hand, gesturing at the mechanical arm. “This surgery stuff. I mean, we’re supposed to be engineers, not doctors.” Hunk merely shrugged and sighed. 

 

“If only we could get in contact with somebody else, we could try negotiating some sort of supply deal or something. Have you gotten that radio to work at all?” 

 

“Well, about that…” 

 

* * *

 

 

Hunk fiddled with the dials on the radio as Pidge watched from her seat beside him. His brows had creased into a frustrated line, ears focused on the seemingly never ending static. He tried speaking into the receiver, but when no reply came, Hunk sighed and leaned back into the leather. Pidge pushed up her glasses, mentally noting that she would have to adjust the arms again soon, lest this become too regular of an occurrence. 

 

Hunk turned to face her and shoved the receiver back into her hands. “D’you think you could find that channel again? I can’t seem to secure anything. You’re absolutely sure you had a conversation with someone? You could be experiencing exhaustion; stressing about Shiro and your family-” 

 

“I’m not exhausted!” Pidge snapped. 

 

She sighed and dragged a hand down her face, careful to avoid pulling down her glasses. “I mean, I am tired, but I  _ swear  _ to you that I talked to Shay. She has others with her, if we could move them all here, pool our supplies together, we’ll have a greater chance at making sure Shiro lives.” 

 

Hunk didn’t say anything for a while. The static feedback had died down. The afternoon sun had begun to slip beyond the horizon, leaving the clouds with splashes of pink, orange, and purple in it’s wake. It had been quiet for the past couple days. Not too quiet, mind you, but just enough to lull the two into a false sense of security. 

 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Hunk began. He rubbed at his eyes, blinking against the sun’s rays. “But right now, this isn’t taking us anywhere. Let’s go inside and have some dinner. I think we have some re-fried beans still stocked.” Pidge scrunched her face up in disgust, but followed Hunk back inside regardless. Energy to do these things had to come from somewhere. 

 

She looked at the radio one last time that night before she shut the door with a slam. 

 

* * *

 

 

They ate with Shiro, who still lay barely conscious on the table. They said nothing for they were both lost in a deep concentration that had them too entranced to attempt at conversation. Pidge chewed slowly as her eyes nitpicked the details of Shiro’s infection while Hunk had begun to scarf it down with a sudden urgency. She looked up, eyes curious. Hunk (not very carefully) placed his bowl on the counter, not caring that the spoon had tipped over and had fallen to the floor. 

 

“The ham radio!” Hunk choked a little before continuing. “Iit’s, it’s in the basement but I think it’ll work still.” Pidge set down her bowl as well and trotted after Hunk. 

 

They made several (confusing) turns down the hallway before coming to the stairs that led to the basement. The door was as sturdy as any other within the building, a thick frame of steel and a card reader beside the handle. Hunk’s hand dove into his pockets, fishing in each one before pulling out his ID.

 

“You still carry that on you?” Pidge inquired as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. 

 

“I had some pretty lonely days here before you and Shiro came along. Lost myself a couple times. Reminds me who I am, I guess,” he replied. He slid the card through the slot, sighing with relief when the door opened a crack. 

 

“Oh, I see.” 

 

Their footsteps echoed against the concrete surroundings as they made their descent. The lights gave off a faint glow, allowing them just enough visibility to see the next stair. 

 

The stairs spiraled downward for what seemed like an eternity. Pidge’s heart beat with exertion, and she assumed Hunk was just about in the same state as she was. 

 

Finally they came to a second door with the same security parameters as the first one. Hunk repeated his earlier actions and opened the door to what looked like an unused (albeit understocked) bunker. Bunker was putting it lightly. The cots were a thin mattress covered in a plastic leather shell, and the blankets folded on top were no thicker than toilet paper. The lights flickered to life, though inconsistent due to the lack of use and general drainage of power. Hunk entered first, searching the desks lined against the wall. 

 

A silver glint caught the corner of Pidge’s eye, drawing her to a corner in the room. A small strongbox sat on the shelf along with several miscellaneous items. She pulled the box closer to herself, flipping each of the latches up and open. The box opened with a squeak. 

 

Immediately Pidge noticed the GALRA insignia on the upper half of the top lid. An eyebrow raised itself with suspicion. Inside the box was a series of what looked like computer memory chips encased in black foam. With nimble fingers she plucked one of the chips out of its place and held it up to the light. It looked to be in pristine condition, but its true state would be unknown unless she could examine it in closer detail. 

 

“Hunk? You might want a look at this…” 

 

“What is it- oh, wow, what  _ are  _ these supposed to be for?” Hunk had plucked one out for himself, his eyes scouring the piece. 

 

“Hunk, it’s GALRA tech. What would it be doing down here?” Pidge placed her piece back into its spot and turned to face Hunk, who was still mostly occupied by the chip. 

 

“Well, I told you before, GALRA bought our research, but I wasn’t expecting this to be here… If this was critical to our project, why would they hide it down here?” 

 

“It’s possible that they may have tried to sabotage you guys from the start…” Pidge said. 

 

Hunk scoffed. “Yeah, right. Spend thousands of dollars funding my team only to have us fail. That doesn’t make any sense. Plus, I think this box would have been somewhere inaccessible to us if they truly intended failure.” 

 

“If they really wanted it to succeed, they’d want their own researchers to take over your project completely and shut you guys out. They wanted the world to collapse, to fall apart. Maybe not in this...specific way, but it kind of worked.” Hunk simply shook his head in disbelief. 

 

“Nah, even if they took over completely, they wouldn’t- they wouldn’t screw up  _ this  _ badly. Our project was meant to enhance, to improve and help humanity. Not completely and utterly destroy it. It’d have to take a world-class village idiot to do this scale of damage.” 

 

Pidge chewed on her lip. This box brought along with it a few more mysteries that would have to be tackled later. 

 

“Did you find that radio?” 

 

Hunk gasped, as if he had forgotten the original purpose of coming down here. He tucked the chip into his vest pocket and zipped it shut. He dashed over to the other side of the room and pulled out a large black box from underneath a desk. The dash lights looked a little busted, but not beyond repair. Pidge strode over to the radio, getting down on her knees to inspect it better. 

 

“Hmm, seems a bit busted, but I think I can fix it in no time. I’ll take it to the lab where the arm is staying, that way we can work on it and the arm in the same room. Easier to share the tools, at the very least.” 

 

“Let’s get started, then.” Hunk said.

 

* * *

 

 

Pidge tinkered with the small electrical panels hosted inside the radio box while Hunk busied himself with changing Shiro’s bandages with the last fresh pair that they had. Pidge had been hoping that he’d improve by now, but that hope had slowly turned into a pipe dream. If they didn’t get in contact with Shay’s group again, they’d all be in heaps of trouble, even more so than they are now. 

 

She brought the lamplight closer to her, shining it into the cavity. With the smallest screwdriver she could find she twisted the screws loose and pulled out the internal control panel. Everything looked fine, yet it refused to turn on. She turned over the piece, inspecting it with a scrutinizing gaze; if there was something broken, she could fix it. Pidge’s eyes locked onto what appeared to be a damaged part crucial to the power relay.

 

Pidge was about ready to admit complete exhaustion at this point. Missing something so obvious… If she could just push it to the side a little bit, add a little more stability.... 

 

She plopped it back into its place and turned the radio so that it faced her. She pressed the power button with a firm push of her thumb. 

 

Nothing but static erupted from the speakers. But it was working. At least now she wouldn’t have to go outside to the car every time she wanted to use the radio. She picked up the receiver and held it close as she began to fiddle with the dials, searching for a signal that would connect her to anyone listening. 

 

“Testing, testing, this is Pidge from the bio-engineering facility. If anyone is listening, please respond.”

 

She repeated this for several minutes, tuning and retuning the station in order to find a clear connection. 

 

“Testing, testing, this is P-”

 

“Hello?” This didn’t sound like Shay. Too raspy. The voice was more masculine, but sounded worn from overuse or dehydration. 

 

“I’m trying to find someone who can help, we’re getting low on supplies and-”

 

“Pft. You and me both, buddy.” The voice chortled. Pidge licked her lips before replying. 

 

“I need to find Shay, but this is the only channel that’s stable right now.” 

 

“Hey, we have a Shay in our group. Hold on, I’ll get her.” 

 

Pidge waited in anxious silence before Shay’s voice cracked through the speakers. 

 

“Thank you, Lance.” Pidge nearly fell off her seat when she heard the name. “Pidge? Is everything okay?” 

 

“I- I’m, yeah, look, you need to get your group to our camp immediately. We’re located at the end of Cantabury Road, it’s a big gray building. You can’t miss it. Seeing as I can pick up your signal, you guy can’t be very far. Bring everything you can carry.” 

 

“I do not understand, are you asking for help or providing it?” 

 

Pidge brushed her bangs out of her eyes and glared at the arm on the other side of the table. 

 

“A bit of both.” At this point Hunk had appeared in the doorway with shock written all over his face. He tightened the headband around his forehead before sitting in the chair next to Pidge. 

 

“I… thank you for your generosity… but I think it’s going to be a dangerous trip to make, especially with Rax being in the state that he’s in. We cannot leave our camp lest we lose more of our people.” 

 

Pidge sighed and rubbed at her temples. It was a fair point. She couldn’t ever see herself going outside again after what happened. She set the receiver down on the table, only for Hunk to pull it towards himself. 

 

“Shay? This is Hunk. We have a car with some gas still left inside the tank, if you tell me where you are, we can make the trek there and get you guys back.” Pidge snapped her head towards him. The van! 

 

“Then you guys better hurry, Rax doesn’t have much time.” 

 

* * *

 

Hunk had leaped from his seat and had already begun to race for the door. Pidge sat alone with the radio. She propped her elbows up on the table with a frown etched into her features. Shiro didn’t have a lot of time left either, if they didn’t do something. 

 

She could hear Hunk push open the main door as he left the building. Pidge lightly jogged after him, only to see that he had pulled the gate wide open. 

 

“Hunk, do you even know where you’re going? Shouldn’t I go with you?” Pidge rested her hand against the side mirror, looking up to make eye contact as he gripped the door handle. 

 

He paused. “I can try contacting them with this radio, but I have a fair idea of where they might be. Close the gate behind me, and make sure Shiro lives until we get back.” 

 

Pidge could only nod as Hunk threw himself into the driver's seat. She folded her arms across her chest and simply watched as Hunk drove down the highway. 

 

_ Sure, play hero, leave a fifteen year old by herself with a dying man.  _

 

Pidge closed the gate, and headed back inside. 

  
  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for a panic attack and some hallucinations, take care y'all. 
> 
> Sorry this took a little longer than expected. I had a not great mental health week(s) and got busy with the comic expo this weekend. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Have a lovely day/evening/night!

He could feel his pulse beat with weariness as his veins and arteries pushed blood throughout his body. Sometimes he could hear blurred, distorted voices talk over him with distress eminent in their words. A cool dampness would envelop his entire body every now and then, a relief he greatly appreciated. But then they would leave him alone for a period of time, his mind being the only company around. Until it drove itself to a point where all he could do was dream in feverish visions. 

 

Ones where he was at home and suddenly roamers would bust down the door, demanding his flesh as rent money. The one where the grass was stained with blood, the liquid crimson trickling onto the road as if it had been water. He didn’t like the one where he was in a room, no doors, no windows, but the walls would move inwards and trap him in a box with barely enough room to breathe. Or the one where Keith, Lance, Pidge, and Hunk were all together having a bonfire on some ship in outer space, away from the chaos of the world below. 

 

Keith would turn to him and say, “When do you think you’re going to wake up and find us?” 

 

Shiro would then feel like he had just sunk through the floor, having lost his grip on the chair and the marshmallow stick he had been holding, doomed to float in the darkness for what felt like an eternity. 

 

This time it was the same dream. Everyone and everything was present and accounted for; the chairs that swiveled at the base, the plasmic energy the fire gave off, the feeling of safety wrapping around Shiro like a warm blanket. He could see the stars twinkle brightly in the night sky. He brought the cooked marshmallow to his lips, biting off the top with his teeth and chewing, but detected no sweet taste. He bit into it again. No taste. As if he suddenly realized that having a fire inside a spaceship was strange and that this wouldn’t ever happen, Keith turned to face him. 

 

Shiro shot himself upward and opened his eyes. He went to rub the sleep out of them, only to realize that he could only see one hand. 

 

Shiro screamed. Suddenly, he was back at the apartment, trapped as he waited to be feasted upon. He leapt away from the door and moved towards the window and pushed it open with a grunt. Shiro took two steps down at a time, not ready to make the same mistake he had last time, his hand unsteady on the rail. He didn’t look behind him. He didn’t listen to the way the roamers seemed to chant his name with raspy, worn voices. 

 

Shiro finally reached the bottom of the staircase. His chest heaved and he struggled to bring the air back into his lungs. He could see the door of the van ajar and raced for it, pulled it with an extreme effort. Why the hell was this so heavy? Shiro could feel his vision begin to fade, could feel the blood pour out of his arm just like it had before. 

 

Shiro began to cry. To wail. Howls of pain erupted from him at a volume he himself did not think possible. Instead of blood, terror coursed through his veins; his heart banged heard against his rib cage. He looked behind him to see Pidge and Hunk running towards him. 

 

But something was wrong. 

 

Pidge’s eyes were gone. Her cheek looked like it had been torn off and left her mouth partially exposed. She ran with a limp, for her ankle was badly broken. 

 

Hunk wasn’t in any better shape; his hands bent at awkward angles as they reached out for him. His skeletal legs could barely support his weight and the bones looked ready to snap any second. 

 

“GET AWAY! GET AWAY FROM ME!” Shiro screamed, salty tears streaking his face. He felt his legs give way underneath him and fell on his bottom with a hard thud, only making him cry more. He gripped at his wounded shoulder and yelled at the two approaching once more. Shiro gulped air with desperation and tried to push himself further into the wall behind him, curling himself into a tight ball. 

 

Pidge knelt down on one knee to reach out towards him and placed her small hand on his. He could only sob in response. 

 

“ _ Get away get away get away please please please _ .” He sobbed.

 

“He’s hallucinating, but it kinda sounds like he’s near the end of the episode.” Her voice was heavy with worry. He could feel her fingers unfurl their gentle grip on him, moving to his forehead. 

 

“Is- is he going to…?” Hunk didn’t complete the question. 

 

“How am I supposed to know?” Pidge snapped. “We need to get him to relax, but we don’t have any sedative. At this point, the stress is going to kill him before the roamers do.” She sighed, picking herself up and moving away from Shiro. 

 

“We have to move him back to his room and lock the main door again. Who knows if he attracted any of  _ them  _ here. C’mon, I got his shoulders, you get his legs.” That was Hunk. How was he so calm right now? 

 

Exhaustion took over and he felt himself become too tired to fight against them anymore. Shiro let himself be lifted into the air and swayed softly in their grip. Sleep took him away seconds after.

  
  
  


* * *

 

 

His eyelids have never felt so heavy in his life. It felt like it took up all his energy just to pry them open a crack. The headache made him want to shut his eyes again immediately and fall back asleep and become numb once more. He opened his mouth to try to speak, but his lips cracked and peeled in discomfort, and he could taste the ever faint hint of copper on his tongue. Dim fluorescent lights flickered weakly above him. He could hear someone shuffling in the hallway; their footsteps grew closer with every passing second. The door handle turned with a loud creak. 

 

Shiro turned his head to the side, confusion swirling like a violent wind inside his skull; he didn’t remember falling asleep in a strange room, on a cold and hard table. Alone. 

 

Pidge stood before him, frozen with shock, her hand glued to the handle. Shiro tried to push himself up off of the table but instead found himself falling back down with a hard thud. His shoulder radiated pain in waves so strong he thought he might pass out again. 

 

“Shiro, lay down. You’ve had quite the episode. I didn’t think you’d still be around after that.” The words would have felt clinical in a normal sense; back when clinics were not overrun by the undead, if it were not for the shaking in her voice. “Glad the infection didn’t take hold of you completely.” 

 

He couldn’t feel his right hand curl into a balled fist like his left had done. He looked down to see that his right arm was completely missing, crudely sawed off at the apex of his shoulder. Shiro’s eyes widened with fear. 

 

Infected? 

 

Memories began flooding back into his mind; being trapped in the room, getting caught, bit, blood pouring from his wound, blackness encroaching his peripherals until it had completely taken over. Shiro could feel the wetness begin to gather at his tear ducts. He made it as far as he could manage with Pidge and Hunk, but now that would have to change. 

 

Once more, he tried to push himself up to meet her gaze, with incredible effort that left him short of breath. Shiro licked his lips as anxiety pricked its way up his spine.

 

“What happened to my arm? Wh- what happened? What happened to it?” 

 

She opened her mouth and closed it again in quick succession with attempts at finding the right words to say. 

 

“Well,” she began, eyes looking in every direction but his own. “You, um, you got bit and-” 

 

With a grunt, Shiro was able to swing his legs over the edge of the table, head swimming with the sudden motion. 

 

“Pidge, we discussed what would you would need to do if this...if this happened to me. We need to plan on how we...God, this is a lot harder than I thought it would be. I thought that I’d find Lance and Keith, and you’d find your family, and this whole,” Shiro gestured to the room with his hand, waving it in the air as if he was addressing more than just one person. “This whole thing would be over. I don’t know how much time I’ve got left, Pidge. But please. Find Lance and Keith. Tell them what happened. I can’t leave them in the dark.” 

 

“What?” She raised an eyebrow, as if she was clueless as to what he was referring to before realizing what she said. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean  _ infected  _ infected.” She chewed on the edge of her lip, correcting herself once more: “I meant to say, it’s infected and you had a hell of a fever, but you’re not going to turn.” 

 

“Because you cut it off.” 

 

“Precisely.” She pushed up the frames on her face, blinking through the smudges that had accumulated on the lenses. 

 

Shiro shot her a incredulous look. “I wouldn’t call this precise at all.” He gingerly poked at his wound with his hand, hissing when it erupted in a hot, prickling sensation. “What do you mean by episode?” 

 

“I’m not surprised you don’t remember. Two days ago you woke up and ran out of here, screaming bloody mary. Hunk and I thought you might have snapped. Gone off the deep end. For good. We were terrified that you might have hurt yourself even more.” 

 

Shiro felt his ears burn red with humiliation. He was supposed to protect them, not scare them out of their minds. He licked his lips before asking, “How often have I done that?” 

 

“Just the one time, thank God. It’s been pretty quiet since Hunk left-”

 

“What!?” 

 

Pidge had stepped into the room and picked up the towel that rested beside the bowl of water and dipped it in, wringing it out and handing it to Shiro.

 

“Calm down, Shiro. Everything’s fine,” she reassured him. “I should catch you up on what’s been going on. About three days ago, I locked onto a signal from the car radio. Hunk then told me about another radio in the basement, but it was broken. Obviously, I could fix it up enough that I could get a better and clearer signal. There’s another settlement close by and they’re pretty strapped for supplies, but Hunk and I figured if we pool what we have and fortify this place, we could have a better shot at surviving this. He took the car to go get them.” 

 

Shiro could feel apprehension in his gut. “I don’t know, Pidge, we don’t know who they are. This could be a trap.” 

 

Pidge instantly lit up. “But we do know who they are.” 

 

He raised an eyebrow. 

 

“Turns out Lance was in our metaphorical backyard all along.” 

 

“What?!” He repeated, astonishment all over his face. His eyes looked at Pidge, who smiled brightly at him. “How did you find him? Was Keith there? Did you talk to them?” 

 

She scratched the back of her head sheepishly. “Well, I only really talked to Lance and Shay, I know they have a couple of others in their camp… I didn’t think to ask where Keith was. Sorry, Shiro. You said they were pretty much inseparable, right? I’m sure they’ll be fine. Spending all your energy worrying is not good for your health.” Shiro handed her back the rag and she put it back beside the water bowl. 

 

“Hunk is bringing them back, they should be here soon. I’ll go get you some food, just stay here, okay?” Pidge made to leave, closing the door behind her. 

 

“Wait!” 

 

Pidge popped her head back in the room. “Need something?” 

 

Shiro fidgeted with the edge of his shirt. “Can you please leave the door open?” 

 

She nodded, pushing the door back open, allowing him full view of the hallway. It was the same hallway as it had always been. Linoleum floors, beige walls, pot lights illuminating the otherwise dark area. He’d been stationed here with Pidge for a long time now, but his grip on reality was just starting to come back to him. His heart beat at a normal pace. His skin wasn’t constantly drenched in uncomfortable sweat. Thanks to Pidge and Hunk he had made it through the worst of the suffering. 

 

Eyes scanning around the room, he noticed a bottle of water on the counter on the opposite side of the room, half empty. He should take Pidge’s advice and just rest or wait for her to come back so she could get it for him. 

 

But the thirst was maddening. Just like a pup starved for its mothers’ milk, Shiro slowly, weakly, made his way to the water bottle and twisted off the plastic cap, guzzling the water down his throat. It tasted like every one of his favourite foods; hamburgers, shish kebabs, curry on rice. Energy flowed through him like a river flowed into an ocean. The half-empty water bottle was now completely empty, the last few drops hanging off of the rim, teasing him. 

 

It was at that moment Pidge made herself known and Shiro turned around to see her holding a bowl of dried cereal. 

“Do you want me to leave you two alone for a minute, or…?” She teased, lips stretched into a sly smirk. Her ability to poke fun of him at a time like this made Shiro relax, his shoulder releasing some of the tension that had built up, the hornets in his stomach turn into butterflies. 

 

“Yeah, if you see another water bottle around, send it my way.” He replied before seating himself back on the table. Pidge handed the bowl to him, the dried sugary aroma wafting into his nose. He could feel his mouth begin to salivate. 

 

“I’ll make note of that.” 

 

Shiro tossed a few of the shredded wheat puffs into his mouth and chewed. They were stale and the cinnamon flavour was barely there, but they tasted like heaven. 

 

“Sorry there isn’t any milk.” Pidge said as she twiddled her thumbs. 

 

“S’okay.” 

 

“The last we had went sour, and we tried to turn it into sour cream, but it didn’t work.” 

 

Shiro shrugged. Crunch. Munch. Swallow. 

 

He ate slowly, trying to savour the flavour as much as he could, listening to Pidge ramble on about something. It was rude to not pay attention, he knew that well, but he was so goddamn hungry. 

 

“...And we’re nearly finished working on the arm, but it’s missing something, and of course there’s the issue of attaching it…” As much as it pained his stomach, Shiro stopped chewing. 

 

“What arm?”

 

“The one Hunk told us about when we first got here?” 

 

Shiro didn’t say anything. The cogs in his mind began to grind against each other, the pieces coming together to complete the bigger picture. 

 

“And you want to attach it. To me.” 

 

“That is the expected outcome, yes.” She said matter-of-factly. Pidge pushed up her glasses again, continuing to talk. “Of course, because it’s no ordinary prosthetic, we’re not sure how to go about actually attaching it to you and having it work and whatnot.” 

 

“What else can you do?” 

 

“We’ll probably have to turn you into a cyborg.” 

Shiro groaned. He put the bowl of cereal down on his side of the table. 

 

“Please, be serious.” 

 

Pidge turned her head away from him, avoiding eye contact. Shiro waited, hoping she’d explain further. 

 

“We have a couple of ideas as to how to connect the arm, but they’re kind of… dangerous.” 

 

“You cut my arm off. I thought danger would have been your middle name by now.” Shiro joked, poking her own arm. She let out a quiet, breathy laugh, folding her arms across her chest. 

 

“Now it’s your turn to be serious. I saved your life, you know. It’s just that in order for your brain to connect to the arm and make it function the way we planned it to, we’d have to connect the nerves together and secure a neural pathway and-” she pulled at her hair in frustration, “-it’s just so complicated and delicate and we don’t have a doctor and we thought if we cut your shoulder open again we’d just end up ruining all our effort to save you and it would only end with killing you and-” her breaths became laboured, her body beginning to shake, tears building up at the corner of her eyes. 

 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright Pidge. I’m okay, you don’t need to cry,” his voice cooed, arm wrapped around her shoulders in attempt to bring comfort. 

 

“There was so much blood, Shiro, so much. I didn’t even know if it would save you, b-but I had to try, you know? Then I thought you lost too much blood and would never wake up! I was so scared, and when you freaked out I thought that was it, that I’d be alone again- like, I know Hunk’s here and- and I’m so  _ so  _ grateful for that, I just couldn’t handle losing anyone else.” Shiro rubbed her back in soothing circles, concern knitted into his brows as she cried. 

 

“You saved my life, Pidge. You aren’t going to lose me, or your family. We’re going to find them. As soon as Hunk and the others get back, we need to make a plan to look for them.” 

 

“But- you’re arm. We’ve got so much testing to do, and that’s  _ after  _ we figure out how to put it on in the first place and-” 

 

“One step at a time, Pidge. We’ll get there.” 

 

Pidge sniffled one last time and pushed herself off of the table, wiping her hands on her shorts. Not yet ready to look Shiro in the eyes, she thanked him and left the room, making sure to leave the door open behind her. 

 

Shiro picked up the bowl again, consuming the rest of the cereal in deep thought. 

 

Hunk was going to be back soon. He was bringing the others with him. Lance was guaranteed to be one of them, and Shiro could only hope that meant Keith was there, too. They were like family to him; the thought of seeing them again bathed him in a sense of calm and ease. 

 

How would they react to how he was now? He was no longer the young college student they knew. His hair had grown out since he last saw them, his muscles were more developed, new scars everywhere on his body. They’d still recognize him without a doubt in his mind, but… 

 

Would they be scared of him? Would they think of him to be so fragile a single touch would cause him to shatter into millions of tiny pieces? He’s missing an arm and is barely strong enough to walk around the room to grab a half empty water bottle without having to grab onto the counter or table for support. He’s utterly useless in this state. 

 

“Berating myself isn’t going to be of any use either…” he said to no one. Down the hallway, he could just barely pick up Pidge’s voice. She sounded like she was talking to someone...Hunk maybe? He was away, but she said more than one radio was functioning now, so it was a definite possibility… He wanted to walk over there and find out for himself, but he didn’t trust himself to make the trip down the hallway yet. 

 

She stopped talking all of a sudden. He could hear her feet race further down the hallway, towards the main entrance. The groan of the door could be heard from anywhere, the sound of metal grinding against metal making anyone wince. They should probably get around to oiling it soon. 

 

Quiet. Then so many different voices, all at once. 

 

They sounded alarmed. Footsteps stomped through the main entrance, shouts coming from everyone. He could hear Pidge trying to organize everyone. Hunk was trying to calm everyone down. He could hear a girl, not Pidge, cry alongside a deep, painful moan. 

 

He let a breath of relief escape his lungs when he heard Lance’s voice. They grew louder as the group headed towards Shiro’s room. Probably moving whoever was injured in the room adjacent from his own. 

 

They finally came into view when they turned the corner, Lance in the lead, typical as ever. Behind him was Hunk and Pidge, as well as two others he hadn’t recognized. But that was only five… 

 

 _There should be six._ _There’s only five._

 

Maybe Keith was just getting something from the car? Maybe he dropped his knife on the floor and was just going back to get it. 

 

_ Where could he be? Aren’t they supposed to be inseparable? _

He wouldn’t let himself think of the worst. Shiro screwed his eyes shut, hair locked in a vice like grip in his hand. 

 

“Shiro? Is that you?” Icey cold hands had now suddenly appeared on his arm, goosebumps erupting all over his skin. Steely grey eyes met face to face with crystal blue. His spotless face now displayed a jagged scar across his left eyebrow and heavy bags underneath his eyes. His hair had grown out, the tips of his brunet locks tickling the tops of his shoulders. The younger man didn’t seem to be fazed by it in the least. 

 

“Lance, you’re alive?” He whispered, almost afraid that if he said it any louder than that he would wake up only to find himself alone.

 

“Of course I’m alive! My shooting skills have only improved you know. Although,” he said, pausing to step back and look at Shiro. “I don’t think I could say the same for you.” Always the comedian of the group. “I’m glad you’re alive, Shiro. Hunk told me what happened and I… I don’t know what I’d do if you… died.” 

 

“You’d find a way forward. You always do.” Shiro reminded him. 

 

Lance’s lips pulled back into a somber smile. “I wouldn’t agree with that.” Shiro shifted uncomfortably, not sure if he was ready to ask the million dollar question. 

 

Part of him was genuinely glad that Lance was safe. Part of him clawed the insides of his skull, begging to know what happened to Keith. 

 

“Where...is he?” 

 

Lance looked down at the floor. Long, bony fingers wrapped themselves around lean, but strong arms. 

 

“He went looking for you.” Shiro felt his heart drop into his stomach.  

 

“We had a fight about where to go, and he said you’d know and then- he just? Left? I was still so angry with him and I turned the other way and found Shay and Rax, but then we got overrun and now we’re here. I thought… I thought if I had a chance of finding him it would be with you.”

 

“I’m sorry, Lance,  _ I  _ thought he’d be with you.” 

 

Despite the tears that welled up in his eyes, Lance leaned back, smiled, and put his hands on his hips. 

 

“Well, shit!” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: May 13

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank everyone who helped edit this and bared with my inability to stick to one perspective for one chapter. 
> 
> Here's my tumblr: @mer-uem  
> Here's my twitter: @chromtime  
> Feel free to talk to me anytime about Voltron or anything else! Ask box is always open.


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